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Are You Grateful Enough?
Dec. 20th, 2008 01:16 pmIf there's one thing that pisses me off, it's that this question is always on my mind, especially this time of the year.
I blame my uncle and aunt. They aren't sane people - they used to live in the community I live in now, but left because my aunt didn't feel she was a part of the community. She felt she was too racially out of place (she's WHITE and living next to LEASIDE. That's where Harper grew up.) and that she didn't have any yuppie mothers she could have coffee with and discuss how terrible and violent and evil the world is today.
So, they moved Oakville, so she could have a massive house, even though she didn't like keeping her small one clean, along with huge spaces that were impossible to heat and massive yards to keep care of. Which is a shame, because her old place had flaws, but it was lovely and sweet and cute, with a cozy-but-nice kitchen, beautiful backyard, lovely hardwood floors, clawfoot tub, three blocks from a wonderful looking school and in walking distance to groceries, transit and parks. I WOULD KILL FOR THIS PLACE WHEN I HAVE A FAMILY.
Now, the hell of this is that they also claimed to hate commuting from out of town, and yet moved out of town. I never understood this.
Back on topic, the one thing that pissed me off is they were fairly generous to me, but they were highly cynical of my interests, my intended profession, my level of education, my tastes, my politics and my emotions. Case in point - one of my friends ended up in the hospital when I was living with my aunt and uncle and I was worried sick about her and then my aunt came out and said her sister had her truck stolen and that was a million times worse. Wait... what? I was so upset at the time that I had a breakdown. That was not fun.
Yet, I tried to return kindness to them for feeding me and putting up with me while working on my placement. I felt that the respect I was giving them was more than what I was getting back and I hoped to set an example. Except, every time I talked to my mother, she made the same comment.
"They don't think you're grateful enough."
To this day, I have no idea why they thought this. I did my chores, I helped pay for things, I looked after myself and I put up with the shit they forced on me, like forcing me to join a gym, yelling at me for being out at 10pm at night (yes, scary things are going to happen to me at the late night book store), and giving them second opinions on open houses. I never complained, unless they took away the internet modem which forced me to scrape together dial-up and pirated wireless access. Again, that was not fun.
But, I put up with it, even when they suddenly kicked me out because they wanted to sell the house and couldn't have me and my geek stuff around, forcing me into a zombie state of over 5 hours of commuting a day. And yet, they still weren't happy.
Was I supposed to bow to them, worshiping them as my upper class masters because they happened to draw a good lot in life? Was I supposed to become a slave to them, unable to have my own opinions? Was I supposed to thank them every waking moment, to the point of leaving them little notes in their lunches?
I've tried to figure it out. I'm not perfect and I probably did something to piss them off, forgot to do a chore, ate leftovers that were intended for another use (that I did do, but I was hungry and didn't know!) and I think I forgot to pay something back, but they won't tell me what that was. But I don't think I deserved the guilt trip laid on me. I tried my honest best and was always polite and respectful.
I can't help but wonder if it's a poor person thing. I remember a friend passing a list called "Being Poor" and one line in it grabbed me.
Being poor is getting tired of people wanting you to be grateful.
And that, my friends, is the heart of it.
And now I'm going over to the party store over to Yonge to get some cute little things to stick on top of my brothers' presents. Not to make them grateful, but because it'll make me an awesome sister and give them something to brag about.
I blame my uncle and aunt. They aren't sane people - they used to live in the community I live in now, but left because my aunt didn't feel she was a part of the community. She felt she was too racially out of place (she's WHITE and living next to LEASIDE. That's where Harper grew up.) and that she didn't have any yuppie mothers she could have coffee with and discuss how terrible and violent and evil the world is today.
So, they moved Oakville, so she could have a massive house, even though she didn't like keeping her small one clean, along with huge spaces that were impossible to heat and massive yards to keep care of. Which is a shame, because her old place had flaws, but it was lovely and sweet and cute, with a cozy-but-nice kitchen, beautiful backyard, lovely hardwood floors, clawfoot tub, three blocks from a wonderful looking school and in walking distance to groceries, transit and parks. I WOULD KILL FOR THIS PLACE WHEN I HAVE A FAMILY.
Now, the hell of this is that they also claimed to hate commuting from out of town, and yet moved out of town. I never understood this.
Back on topic, the one thing that pissed me off is they were fairly generous to me, but they were highly cynical of my interests, my intended profession, my level of education, my tastes, my politics and my emotions. Case in point - one of my friends ended up in the hospital when I was living with my aunt and uncle and I was worried sick about her and then my aunt came out and said her sister had her truck stolen and that was a million times worse. Wait... what? I was so upset at the time that I had a breakdown. That was not fun.
Yet, I tried to return kindness to them for feeding me and putting up with me while working on my placement. I felt that the respect I was giving them was more than what I was getting back and I hoped to set an example. Except, every time I talked to my mother, she made the same comment.
"They don't think you're grateful enough."
To this day, I have no idea why they thought this. I did my chores, I helped pay for things, I looked after myself and I put up with the shit they forced on me, like forcing me to join a gym, yelling at me for being out at 10pm at night (yes, scary things are going to happen to me at the late night book store), and giving them second opinions on open houses. I never complained, unless they took away the internet modem which forced me to scrape together dial-up and pirated wireless access. Again, that was not fun.
But, I put up with it, even when they suddenly kicked me out because they wanted to sell the house and couldn't have me and my geek stuff around, forcing me into a zombie state of over 5 hours of commuting a day. And yet, they still weren't happy.
Was I supposed to bow to them, worshiping them as my upper class masters because they happened to draw a good lot in life? Was I supposed to become a slave to them, unable to have my own opinions? Was I supposed to thank them every waking moment, to the point of leaving them little notes in their lunches?
I've tried to figure it out. I'm not perfect and I probably did something to piss them off, forgot to do a chore, ate leftovers that were intended for another use (that I did do, but I was hungry and didn't know!) and I think I forgot to pay something back, but they won't tell me what that was. But I don't think I deserved the guilt trip laid on me. I tried my honest best and was always polite and respectful.
I can't help but wonder if it's a poor person thing. I remember a friend passing a list called "Being Poor" and one line in it grabbed me.
Being poor is getting tired of people wanting you to be grateful.
And that, my friends, is the heart of it.
And now I'm going over to the party store over to Yonge to get some cute little things to stick on top of my brothers' presents. Not to make them grateful, but because it'll make me an awesome sister and give them something to brag about.
